BOOK OF THE DAY: “Yes Please” by Amy Poehler


as a 26 year old male, I unabashedly love Tina Fey and Amy Poehler. My idea of a perfect woman is a lovechild created between the two of them that was genetically modified to have characteristics from both women. That said, I thoroughly enjoyed Amy Poehler’s new book “Yes Please” and the passage I identified with the most is below. Buy the book here

“Sometimes I search out bad news as if reading the details will protect me somehow. I call it tragedy porn. I will fill myself up with every horrible detail about the latest horrible event and then quote it back to people like some bad news know it all. ‘Remember that Austrian dad Joseph Fritzl who raped his daughter and then kept her and her kids in the basement for 24 years.’ I do, because I spent many nights reading every horrible specific fact about it and talking about it to everyone who would listen. Until one day Seth Myers gently reminded me that I worked at Saturday Night Live and it was a comedy show, and maybe I was bumming everybody out.

At the end of the year the update team surprised me with a framed copy of an entertainment weekly cover that Seth and I had posed for. They had replaced Seth’s face with Joseph Fritzl’s. I’m smiling and pulling at his tie. This is what it’s like to work in comedy, hilarious and horrifying. Speaking of horrifying, I still troll the internet for terrible stories. I see an awful headline and try not to click it. I often can’t believe how hard it is not to read. For a while I was obsessed with the cable show called “I Survived.” I was never very interested in the people who were attacked by mountain lions while hiking or the dummies who crash their single engine airplanes. Those stories seemed like foolish risk taking scenarios I could successfully avoid by never going outside. No, I would watch the horrible pieces on women who had been assaulted and left for dead. First person accounts of people being attacked by strangers or stabbed by boyfriends.

This is the ultimate narcissistic white girl game. I would picture how I would handle the attack differently, or the same. Inevitably I would think about my own death, which next to staring at your face in a magnifying mirror is probably the worst thing you can do for yourself. The ambulance chasing aspect combined with the monday morning quarterbacking of it all is the luxury afforded to those of us left untouched by trauma. Sometimes, I would use these tragedy porn shows to unlock deep feelings or cut through the numbness. I would read terrible stories to punish myself for my lucky life. Some real deep Irish Catholic shit. Either way, it was all gross and all bad for my health.”